Disclaimer: Black Clover is owned by Yūki Tabata, Studio Pierrot, and Shonen Jump.
Saga 49: Devil in Your Heart Finale
Observatory Coastline, Forsaken Realm, Clover Kingdom, Midnight
It was supposed to be another eventless night.
Wake up, go out to sea, spend the whole day there, return to the shore before the moon rises, rinse and repeat.
However, upon first seeing that the Fallen Angel was attempting another cockamamy scheme to redeem its own pride, Ishmael knew in his gut that everything would be going to hell soon enough.
... Individual swords each size of the observatory tower by the coastline wasn't what he'd expected. But thankfully, he'd already warned the Platnia family living here ahead of time, and combined with their magical research and what's left of his own magic, they were able to minimize the possible damages that would've occurred in the surrounding area with a barrier of wind that steered all of the falling swords to land away from their home.
"... And yet, they still persist on ruination."
Ishmael stretches out his hand towards the sea, and stops a black-colored shell dead with his one hand while the sheer force of the rebound impact has split the ocean before him in two.
"... Even without my wings, I will stop you," declared Ishmael as he threw the black shell back into the reuniting sea, "I won't remain idle as long as you're here."
"Old man!" cried out Taro's voice upon hearing of the noise of the split sea reuniting once again, "what is going on? Are swords falling from the sky a normal thing around here!?"
"... No," Ishmael replied, "are your parents well?"
"No one's hurt, thanks to you," Taro answered with gratitude, "... now what?"
Ishmael looked out towards the sea and towards inland, sensing malignant mana spread out everywhere.
"Whatever you do, do not touch the red blades," Ishmael stated, "also, do not wait for me. For I am to perish soon."
Taro gives the wingless angel a bow before retreating back inland, leaving Ishmael behind to gaze out into the open sea, its rippling surface reflecting the moonlight above.
He then looks at his boat as he walks towards it.
"... Just one more ride, fortitudinous one," Ishmael spoke to his boat as he'd pushed it out into the ocean before jumping aboard.
As he'd set out into open waters, mist begins to envelop the whole coast before dissipating, with the old whaler out of sight.
Clover/Diamond Kingdom Borderlands, Neutral Territory, Midnight
"WHEN I'M DONE THROTTLING YOUR ASSHOLE WITH MY SWORD, I'LL FUCKING CASTRATE YOU AND MAKE YOU EAT YOUR OWN BALLS!"
"And when I'm done with you, I'm going to file a complaint along with a formal resignation!" Cole barked back as he dodged the crazed Sol's swings of her gifted blade, with Vanessa finishing tying up Gordon's arms and legs while Jericho tried to reconnect with the Clover Kingdom's communication line, so far receiving nothing but static.
"LET ME GO! LET ME FUCKING GO!" screeched the crazed Gordon as he flailed in his bindings.
"Anything on the other side, Platnia?" Vanessa asked with a tone of urgency while she was applying more of her [Thread Magic] around Gordon as she noticed the bindings slowly fraying from the latter's hysterical strength, "I can't keep binding him down forever, you know!"
"Nothing but static," answered Jericho as he tried to use the communication device, but receiving no return signals regardless how long he'd waited, "... assume the worst, we're marooned. One of us is going to have to run back to the nearest settlement and assess the situation, or at the very least, find Finral."
"Okay, but which one of us?" asked Vanessa, "Cole's keeping Sol occupied, we're keeping Gordon in check, and our brooms are now splinters after the fucking swords fell atop our heads!"
"Leave Gordon to me," requested Jericho.
"What!?" yelled Vanessa, "and leave me alone out in the open?"
"Gordon is clearly after me after he'd got cursed, and I'd rather not put Finral in his line of fire," Jericho explained, "also, I'd rather not have Gordon live with the guilt of killing his own fellow knight should he snap out of it. Better to be me than him."
Vanessa wanted to protest, but upon hindsight, she'd realized that either staying or fleeing will result in her getting attacked regardless.
"... Fine, I'll do it," Vanessa answered, "but I'm not a fast runner, let alone with these high heels."
"I got an idea," replied Jericho as he took Gordon's shoes off and handed them over to the witch, "my boots are more travel-safe, but this is the only flatfoot right now that fits your size."
"Eghh, gross gross gross," winced Vanessa as she took off her high-heels and put on Gordon's shoes, feeling the residual warmth creeping between her toes, "... oh god, I am going to kill you for this-"
At that moment, Gordon breaks free of his bindings and pounces towards Vanessa, only for Jericho to intercept the sword strike with his [Stardust Knuckles].
"SHUT UP AND RUN!" plead Jericho as he confronted Gordon.
With that said, Vanessa took off into the night with only a hand lantern that was spared from the sword rain, pumping her legs while her head throbbed like mad from her hangover.
"I AM NOT DRUNK ENOUGH TO DO THIS KIND OF CRAP!"
Outside Quatre, Noble Realm, Clover Kingdom, Midnight
"... Old man," spoke Kalashnikov.
"It's a Demon attack," answered Dragunov as he looked across the land ruined by the grotesquely-large swords that fell from heaven and crashed into the earth, "but on this unprecedented scale? As far my eye can see? We're in trouble."
"The weird glow of the blades have driven the most of the inhabitants mad," Kalashnikov remarked, "we need to quell the damage."
"Follow me," ordered Dragunov as he and his junior Inquisitor took off back into the capital city of Clover Kingdom, its streets running red with inhabitants all gone mad with explosive hatred.
"FOREINGERS!" one of the crazed inhabitants cried out as he'd pointed his red sword towards the Inquisitors, "KILL THEM!"
"Old man!" cried out Kalashnikov.
"Hold on," answered Dragunov as he grabbed the other Inquisitor before firing his arrow imbued with [Spatial Magic] to let them travel towards where the arrow had landed.
The arrow stakes itself onto the wooden surface of a barrel, the two landing on top of it, slipping and crushing it underneath, hitting someone.
"Oww... what the hell?" a young male's voice remarked as the two Inquisitors found a light-chestnut-haired Magic Knight bearing the black robes of the bull.
"Who are you?" asked Dragunov.
"Finral," the Magic Knight replied, "I was about to head the Clover/Diamond Kingdom borderlands after my visit, but all of this happened and everyone's started going crazy, and I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON-"
Kalashnikov smacks Finral across his face, shutting him up.
"Calm down," the Inquisitor ordered, "which way is that border?"
"Up north," Finral answered, "I tried using my [Spatial Magic] to get there, but all of these weird red swords are interfering with my mana flow. I can't keep my own portal steady long enough unless I want to get bifurcated mid-trip!"
The two then looked up at the sky, and spotted the North Star.
"... We'll take you there," Dragunov stated, "but after that, you're on your own."
"Wait, what?" Finral asked in a worried tone.
"Niko!"
"Hold still," the Inquisitor ordered as she bites her own thumb and begins to draw a bird-like rune on the back of his neck with her own blood imbued with some of her own mana.
"Wait, what's going on?" asked Finral as he began grow even more worried with the one-eyed Inquisitor tying a thread to his arrow around Finral's own pinky finger.
"HEY!" a crazed female's voice snarled out, the three turning their heads to see a legion of women, all of whom are brandishing the same swords of crimson, "HE HELD ME UP FOR ANOTHER ONE OF YOU BITCHES!"
"HE SAID I WAS THE PRETTIEST BUT I SAW HIM SAY THE SAME THING TO ANOTHER GIRL OUTSIDE THE CAPITAL!"
"HE RAN OFF DURING OUR DATE AND I WAS FORCED TO PAY THE BILL!"
"HE PICKED A SHITTY DRESS THAT FELL APART DURING MY SWEET SIXTEEN!"
The two Inquisitors give Finral a judgmental look, now pondering if they should leave him to his coming fate of scorning so many women, but keeping lives away from death are a priority.
"GET HIM!" the lead lunatic lady barked out, "AND MAKE SURE TO RIP OFF HIS BALLS!"
"If I end up overshooting you," Dragunov stated as he pulled back the arrow connected to Finral, "... start running from where you land."
The Inquisitor fires the arrow into the air, and upon that exact moment where the thread tugged the Magic Knight's finger, he was then immediately teleported into the arrow and the bird rune painted onto the back of his neck transforms into a firebird that integrates with the arrow, rocketing across the night sky in a glorious arc of light as it flew towards north.
As the phoenix carrying the arrow flew out of the Capital, Kalashnikov drew her swords, clashed the blades together, and sent out a wave of fire between them and the lunatic horde, keeping them back from them.
Normally, when they were dealing with a Demon threats, all hostiles, unintentional or not, are to be cut down where they stand. But due to the two Inquisitors being in someone else's jurisdictions, the least they can do is not directly cause the deaths of to those in the foreign sovereign.
"Gówno, if only could gut them where they stood, it'll be a lot easier right now," Kalashnikov remarked as she and Dragunov ran through the chaotic streets, "the public treatise of nonaggression we signed with the Clover Kingdom is a pain in the ass!"
"For now, stick to disabling them," Dragunov ordered as he drew back three blunted arrows with his [Firebolt Mk I] bow, "nonlethal takedowns only! Aim for their arms and legs!"
"Yessir!" replied Kalashnikov as she sheathed her swords back into their scabbards and wielding them as blunt instruments, "COME AND GET SOME, YOU LUNATICS!"
Outside Hage Village, Forsaken Realm, Clover Kingdom, Midnight
"Don't stop running!" Sister Lily cried out to the fleeing children as she used her [Holy Fist of Love] to repel the crazed villagers that are in a state of murderous rampage.
She couldn't completely wrap her head around what was happening right now, but as she was able to warn the whole village of the swords raining from the sky way before they actually fell and crushed everything beneath its shadows cast over their heads, successfully managed to evacuate the village with no initial casualties.
... What she didn't expect were people from outside the village to come and cut the evacuees down with glowing red swords in their hands. Made even worse, some of the Hage villagers accidentally touched the giant glowing red swords in panic of the slaughter, causing them to turn murderous and began cutting anyone in their sights down indiscriminately.
All that were left were her, the orphans (both from the church and the recent ones), Father Orsi, Rowan Hage, and a few other villagers who were still fleeing for their lives.
"How much longer do we have to run!?" cried out one of the villagers as he and the others continued to run from the maddened horde biting at their collective heels, "the whole world has gone mad!"
As much as Sister Lily wanted to reassure him that everything would be alright, but even she knew that the group wouldn't last much longer.
Everywhere as far as her eyes looked beyond the horizon, she saw nothing but glowing red lights shining in the darkness like fireflies. However, with every possible place were it was lit up by the scarlet hue, carnage of unprecedented scale where children were being killed by their own parents and vise-versa were taking place.
Literally nowhere was safe. The whole world has gone straight to hell.
Still, even in the face of such odds, she wouldn't give up.
It's what Asta would've done. As long as she herself was alive, she'll never give in to despair before this madness.
With her gathered resolve, she said the following words that she'd never thought that would've come out of her mouth.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND KEEP RUNNING!" Lily snapped, causing everyone to be taken aback by the Sister's sudden snap in mannerisms, "I WON'T ALLOW ANY MORE DEATHS IF I CAN HELP IT! EVEN IT MEANS GETTING BLOOD ON MY HANDS! I'M SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE DYING BEFORE ME WHILE I COULD'VE DONE SOMETHING!"
From the trees above Lily, several madmen brandishing the same red blades jumped unto her.
"LILY!" Orsi cried out as he fired an orb of [Fire Magic] towards the ambushing group, "BACK AWAY!"
The projectile hits the ambush party, causing an explosion that knocked Sister Lily down from the backblast.
"... Huff... that attack took a lot out of my old body," Father Orsi heaved out in exhaustion from overexerting his mana threshold, "... Lily, are you okay?"
"I'm fine..." Sister Lily sighed out as she stood back up, "... come on, let's keep moving-"
"MOVE!" Rowan cried out as he tackled Sister Lily aside and taking a stab to his torso in her place.
Turns out, one of the madmen were conscious enough to muster enough strength to perform a sneak attack.
"ROWAN!" Lily cried out as she saw the village lord's son struggle with the red blade jutting through his back before he shoved a handful of seed into the berserker's mouth and kicked him away, knocking the two down away from each other.
As the madman got back up on his feet, it went no further as soon as its own mouth started foaming before his whole body went into a violent seizure before falling unconscious.
"Fun fact..." Rowan heaved out as he pulled the sword out of his stomach. before collapsed and laid his back against same tree where the ambush was triggered, "... some seeds when broken through their shells *cough* ... release all sorts of nasty chemicals ranging from paralytics to poison... Any one of you kind folk have [Recovery Magic] that can shut fatal wounds?"
Lily tries to use her own magic to heal Rowan, but not before another horde of crazed villagers were spotted from a distance, now all carrying pitchforks and torches in tandem with their red swords.
"... Go," Rowan begged as he accepted the outcome, "... if you stay and heal me, more people *cough* ... will die."
"No, I'm not leaving anyone behind-"
The village lord's son simply slaps her in the face.
"... No *cough* ... I'll only slow you down," Rowan pointed out as he placed his hand on his wound as he opened his fading grimoire, "... the only thing I do now is slow them down. ... Sister... do your fucking job, and make sure *cough* ... that no one else dies."
Lily looks both at the coming horde and at the dying Rowan. Seeing that there's nothing that she can do within her powers, Lily leaves Rowan behind with a lead-like feeling weighing down her heart.
Rowan sees that the villagers of Hage were able to escape successfully, as the maddened horde began to surround him in their place.
"... Hey, folks of Saussy," Rowan weakly greeted the encroaching madmen, spotting the lord of Saussy Village within the crowd of swordsmen, "... wanna see some magic shit?"
Before his grimoire completely disintegrated, Rowan's hand grasps onto the fading particles of his tome, before letting it go in his clasp, releasing a small green seed that hits the ground.
"... [Seed Magic]," Rowan's death throes heaved out, "... [Overgrowth - Bramble Bomb]."
As Rowan closed his eyes, the world around him exploded into a lush green forest, the horde being sent flying off the earth from the sheer force of the trees sprouting out of the ground around Rowan's corpse.
... June... Hage's in your hands now.
Rowan dies with peace in his heart in a world drowned in strife.
Clover/Spade Kingdom Borderlands, Neutral Territory, Midnight
"Well, that's bloody convenient," Dagda remarked as he looked down at the sectioned stone pen that is keeping the maddened villagers under quarantine.
"You say that, coming from someone who has deflected the falling swords in the first place," Shiren pointed out as he kept supervision of his [Stone Creation Magic: Mass Ward].
Despite suffering the same fate as the rest of the continent, the situation at the Clover/Spade Kingdom borderlands were under control for the most part. Granted, the crazed people in the containment unit were still attempting to break their way out using their swords to strike against the thick stone walls between each of them, but to no avail.
Granted, it would've been simpler to wall them in and let them kill each other off, but Shiren himself was a man of two things; practicality, and principle. If he can save lives, he shall. If it can't be helped, then he'll minimize the damage.
He would've gone with the latter option, weren't it for Dagda simply deflecting the titanic arms raining down upon them, and making them land somewhere else, granting the Golden Dawn Magic Knight enough room to implement the former option.
As for the other Black Bulls with him, they were fine, albeit, spooked.
"WHAT THE HELL!?" Magna shouted out again, still unable to comprehend the madness around him, "WHY ARE THERE SWORDS THE SIZE OF TOWERS EVERYWHERE!?"
Charmy meanwhile, was trying to touch the glowing red blades thinking that it was food, but thankfully held back by Cissonius's [Snatch Magic], which stole her "footsteps", making her walk in place rather than towards the glowing weapon.
"Beats me, boyo," Cissonius remarked as he kept his eyes on Charmy, "just don't touch em or you'll end up like em, kay?"
"Ugh, I feel useless..." groaned Magna as he sat back on the ground, "... I'm not strong as the Ulsterfolk, and I'm not smart as Goldie over there. ... I'm just run of the mill Magic Knight who can deal with ruffians and bandits, but not something this huge... looking around me, seeing the rain of giant-ass swords all over me... this is all way over my head."
"You're not," Shiren pointed out, "as long as you're alive, do not count yourself as useless. The only Magic Knight that is defined as useless is the one that fails to complete his or her mission alive. Am I clear?"
"Tch," grumbled the delinquent mage, "... can't believe I'm agreein' with a Goldie."
"Eh, he has a point," Dagda remarked as he jumped down from the walls of the [Mass Ward], "at first when I looked at ya, I was afraid you be the one of those types who's way too headstrong for their own good, because if you really were, you would've ended up with those crazies behind me."
"Despite your appearances, you appear to hold some degree of caution," Shiren pointed out, "temper that notion into vigilance, and the Black Bulls may yet have to be redeemed."
"... Geez, I know you mean well," Magna grumbled out, "... but you're not making me feel any less useless!"
"Aw, what's wrong, Magna?" Charmy casually remarked as she continued to walk in place as her "footsteps" were stolen from her by Cissonius, "if you're down, have a muffin!"
Magna catches Charmy's treat tossed to him before scarfing it down.
"Oi, Dagda," Magna asked, "... you think if I train under you, can be strong as you?"
"Eh? What's that?" Dagda remarked, "ya mind speaking up, laddie?"
"... I mean, if it ain't too much to ask," Magna stuttered out, his pride as a Black Bull and his naivety being broken in the face of the harrowing reality clashing against each other, "... is it possible for you guys to do a... wazzit called again? You know, where you go to other places and gain... knowledge?"
"You mean a cultural exchange program that Libratium sweet-talks me into doing for their academia teat-sucklers in exchange for free supplies?" Dagda remarked, "... eh, gonna have to ask who's in charge of ya lot."
"That can be arranged, provided if the rest of the ones in charge are willing to consent to it," Shiren pointed out, "although considering that your antics have resulted in several of the nobility to be gravely injured, I suggest gaining their favor first before you try anything. Normally, they would demand recompense, usually and unfortunately, the life of the offender."
Dagda bursts out into howling laughter before going back to stone-cold sober tone.
"Trust me boyo, you do not want to go to war against Ulster," warned Dagda, "I looked at yer lot. A bloody rat has a better chance of survival compared to you idjits who thinks magic is everythin'."
"Enlighten me," Shiren remarked as he continued to maintain his [Mass Ward] as the crazed people contained inside still tried to break out with their blades.
"In Ulster, there about roughly over a million magical creatures that each have over a million different ways to end your life," Dagda pointed out.
"Odd, for it seems that you claim that you're Ulsterian, hence survivability isn't an impossibility," the Golden Dawn Knight pointed out, "elaborate, how is it that you of Ulster have survived against these calamitous beasts all this time?"
"That's because we're one of em," Dagda answered, "in Ulster, everything with a pulse is both prey and predator. Not tellin' ya to stay away, but if you want passage across Ulster... yer gonna need my help."
"... I'll keep that in mind," Shiren remarked as the corner of his eye spotted another wave of the psychotic villagers coming towards their direction, "for now, can I ask for your aid once more?"
"Don't kill em?" Dagda asked.
"Magna Swing, is your broom still intact?" the Golden Dawn asked the delinquent mage, the latter's spirits rising upon hearing about his broom.
"CRAZY CYCLONE 2.0 WAS BORN FOR THIS!" the Black Bull hollered out enthusiastically, his upgraded broom now sporting a more unified and streamlined cassis, colored in the Black Bull's colors of black and gold, the bull skull now replaced with a metallic replicate, the shades now replaced with magic-activated headlights, the temple of the skull bearing the Black Bulls insignia, the horns now sporting handlebars integrated with the broom's brand-new composite mana propulsion engine underneath the broom's seat, the "ribs" now being the exhaust muzzles of the engine, and to top it all off, the broomhead was now a modified jet thruster made of lightweight magical iron composite, which can now spew out a jet blast for acceleration.
To wit, about 5 months' worth of Magna's monthly salary (and holding off gambling during the same duration), and no expenses were spared on making Clover Kingdom's high-performance custom broom, balancing both practicality and the signature Magna Swing flair which was a personal gift from his elder sister Angra before her mysterious absence.
He wasn't too worried. His sister is made of tougher shit.
"Alright boyo," Dagda remarked as he drew out his [Fragarach] from his back sheathe as Magna got on his 2.0 broom and throttled it to life, "... show me what this piece of overcompensation that would make the R&D back at Libratium green with envy can really do!"
"Dunno what you're talking about, but LET'S DO THIS SHIT!"
The two takes off as they begun easily the world's most dangerous corralling of possessed manics.
Libratium Borders, Spade Kingdom, Midnight
"GODDAMMIT! WHAT WILL MAKE YOU STOP COMING AFTER ME!?" Dune screeched out as Bizon continued to bulldoze through the maddened chevaliers.
"I WILL NOT STOP UNTIL EVERY SINGLE DEMON HAS BEEN PURGED!" the bullbheaded Inquisitor roared out as he kept up with his charge towards the Demonologist.
Normally, Dune is more than capable of holding his own, but his [Brimstone Magic] is infamous for the majority of his spells being extremely temperamental.
Mainly, [Judgement Anubis] was one of his rare exceptions of him being able to moderate the awesome power of his innate gifts. Everything else, such as his [Apophis Exhaust], which can fry a full-grown Lindwyrm alive, when used in practical combat...
... Let's just say that he himself was lucky when the bystanders simply died from overexposure. And considering that the majority of these maddened chevaliers are people that he knew, combined with his own magic having the natural penchant for overkill, only one option remained.
"Wadjet, how long until we find ourselves in the clear, or at the very least-" Dune cut his own speech off to duck his head under a flying chevalier who is then split in half after being tossed into the giant's sword's edge, "... at the very least where the congestion of people consists of just me and that Minotaur wearing human skin and clothes behind me?"
"Keep going Northeast," the flame cobra tattoo on his cheek stated, "there's an abandoned checkpoint gate right over there, and the idiot behind us is contributing keeping the heat off of us."
"Great," remarked Dune, "can you slow him down?"
"Soft and wet?"
"Not me, him."
"Just say the word."
"Alright, let's do this shit," Dune remarked as he begun to increase his contracted Demon's influence over his body, the black flame marks now forming all over his body, "Integration Rating: 20%! [Density Magic: Sobek Swamp]!"
As Dune's feet began to glow, the footprint he'd left behind turned into magic circles that loosened the earth that it touched upon, slowly loosening the soil into a runny swamp, miring several lunatics along with Bizon waist-deep.
"Aright, that should hold him for a few minutes-"
"5 o'clock!"
Dune looks back and realizes that his loosened earth has destabilized one of the giant swords planted prior, causing its flat to fall towards his direction.
"Wadjet!"
The snake tattoo slithers to his forearm before lashing out and pulling Dune away from the timbered sword after anchoring herself into a patch of earth ahead of him.
"... Thanks," Dune remarked, "almost died there-"
Behind him, an explosion of earth occurred, with Bizon emerging from the dust clouds and resuming his maddened pursuit.
"Goddammit!" Dune cried out as he resumed running, "how much longer!?"
"ETA 1 minute!" Wadjet confirmed, "there's still some people here, so use your magic at moderation!"
"Will do!" Dune replied before he jumped up into the air in a spin-jump that he'd learned in his parkour courses, momentarily facing Bizon as he unleashed his magic mid-vault, "[Brimstone Creation Magic: Judgement Anubis]!"
"[Density Magic: Anhur Armoring]!" Wadjet chanted as she implants some of her magic into [Judgement Anubis], hardening the ashen structure and pressurizing its structure, morphing the construct into a deadlier weapon.
"[Compound Creation Magic: Ammut the Devourer]!"
As the two stated their spell's name, the flung sickle transforms into a metallic chimeric beast with the head of a crocodile, the body of a lion, and the hindquarters of a jackal, all three parts gleaming with an obsidian sheen. The beast pounces onto Bizon upon collision, leaving the latter occupied as Dune and Wadjet make their way towards the open space Northeast.
"Okay..." Dune heaved out as he hastily looked around, seeing nothing but swords present, "... this should be the perfect place to unleash everything I have."
"Uh, Dune?" Wadjet stated in a worried tone, "you might want to hurry. I don't think [Ammut] can't hold him down for long."
"How much time?" asked Dune as he took out his karda knife he'd received from his parents before his departure to Libratium to pursue his studies.
"2 minutes, tops."
He then cuts an incision across his palm after planting his staff before walking away from it and stopping after a couple of paces.
"Pray for me, even though you're a Demon."
He then squeezes his own cut palm, bleeding out a drop of blood onto the ground, forming a magic circle with Wadjet using the blood offering to draw a massive runic circle around the planted staff.
"Just a little more..." Dune muttered to himself, "just a little bit more-"
Ahead of him, a horrible scraping and screeching noise was heard right before a decapitated head of an obsidian crocodile landed before his feet.
"... I'm pretty sure it has been less than two minutes?" Dune asked worryingly.
"At this rate, we won't make it in time!" Wadjet stated, "he's no Inquisitor! He's a fucking freak of nature!"
"Not if I can distract him!" Dune replied as he took off where Bizon was at, "I'LL LEAVE THE REST TO YOU, WADJET!"
"DON'T DIE!" the Demon cried out as Dune ran towards Bizon, whose foot was stomping on the headless ashen construct.
"... How trite," Bizon commented as his foot stamped onto the unresponsive construct into dust, "usually, Demon-worshippers run when they see me. And yet, here you are, approaching me."
"There's no one in the way now," Dune remarked boldly, despite his legs trembling with the same fear that he's trying to swallow, "... but I can't stop you if I'm not close to you."
Bizon raises his [Labrys] over his head while staring down at the mousey-in-comparison Demonologist.
"... Then DIE!"
As soon as Bizon's axeblade struck Dune's head, the head itself gave away into ash. As the blade dug through the particles in its swing, the powder then begins to glow red-hot before exploding, sending Bizon flying.
"WHAT!?" roared out Bizon as the Demonologist before him was a decoy. But before he can think, two copies of Dune Pyrite appear before him.
"[Brimstone Creation Magic: Replica Geb]," both Dunes spoke in unison, "now which one of us is real?"
"Why should I even bother?" replied Bizon as he used his [Gravity Magic] to telekinetically pick up one of the giant blades from the ground, "WHEN I CAN SIMPLY WIPE BOTH OF YOU OUT!? [GRAVITY MAGIC: BETELGEUSE BRANDISH]!"
The sword picked up by the [Gravity Magic] swings down at the two Dunes, but to Bizon's displeasure, both were dummies as evidenced by them both exploding into flames postmortem.
"... Gówno, STOP HIDING!" Bizon roared out as he'd let go of the sword from his [Gravity Magic].
"And get caught?" Dune's voice sounded out, "sir, you are terrifying! Do you talk to your family with a mouth like that?"
"THEY'RE DEAD BECAUSE OF YOUR KIND!" Bizon roared out, "ALL YOU DEMON-WORSHIPPERS ARE GOOD FOR ARE DESTROYING LIVES AND NOTHING ELSE!"
"Wow, way to put all of us under the same umbrella," Dune stated in an offended tone, still out of sight, "we Demonologists are founded on the principles of making sure that the shitheels like the Dark Triad never happen again. Power itself isn't inherently evil, and the Zogratis Clan who ruled this kingdom 15 years prior only cared for themselves. It's because of them that a veil of ignorance has been placed between understanding and Demonology. Our objective isn't to promote Demons, but rather, to better understand evil so that the future generations can be better prepared should the tide of ignorance gives way to a wave of calamity."
"THE ONLY WAY TO SOLVE THAT PROBLEM IS WHEN ALL OF YOU DEMONFUCKERS ARE DEAD AND CREMATED!" Bizon roared out as he'd raised his axe over his head, a crushing orb of compressed gravity forming over it's head, "I'LL KILL AS MANY PEOPLE AS I HAVE TO AS LONG AS YOUR KIND IS AMONG THEM!"
"Way to bring down a hammer to everything you perceive as a nail," Dune sighed out, "... which is why you are screwed."
Surrounding the young Inquisitor, an army of Dune-copies surrounded him, all of whom are now bearing an ashen visage of a cobra over their heads.
"By the way," the Dune-copies spoke in perfect unison, "my [Replica Geb] can also copy my own spells with no downsides."
"[MANA ZONE: SPICA CLUSTER NOVA]-"
"[Brimstone Magic: Apophis Exhaust - Eclipse Blast]."
The copies of the ashen cobra heads all regurgitate a smoking jet of white-hot volcanic ash, clashing against the Inquisitor's localized black hole formed from the centralized mass of gravity that tried to suck in all of the dust, but it too much for Bizon, and he'd promptly got buried alive in super-hot sand.
After the patch of the grasslands has turned into a black patch of burning earth, the copies formed from [Replica Geb] all dissipated, leaving only one, true Dune Pyrite behind, revealing himself to be behind where Bizon's eyes were facing.
"... If I actually do end up killing him, I'm going to have kill myself-"
"No need."
The hot earth that buried the young Inquisitor gave way to a geyser of coal-black dust, revealing Bizon, mostly-alive, and the clothes on his upper torso, including his armor, have given out, revealing his burly and stone-like armor that he would call his own pecs.
"I take requests," Bizon spoke in a quietly disturbed and sadistic tone akin to that of a torturer would speak in, "would you like a vertical decapitation, or a horizontal bifurcation?"
"REQUEST DENIED!" Dune screamed out in fear as he took off running, which Bizon than followed in short order.
"IT'S NO USE RUNNING!" Bizon cackled out as he sped towards the Demonologist, "I'VE SLAUGHTERED OVER 444 MEMBERS OF THE ZOGRATIS CLAN AND THEIR COUNTLESS XYECÓC DISCIPLES ON MY FIRST MISSION! THEIR SO-CALLED MALICE IS NOTHING COMPARED TO MY RIGHTEOUS WRATH! THEY DESERVED TO BE DEAD AND BURIED AT MY HANDS, FROM THE ELDERLY TO THEIR INFANTS! I AM BIZON REZNOV, THE WINGS OF WRATH, THE ROAR OF RUIN, AND THE BEAST OF BURIAL! AND YOU ARE MY NEXT PREY!"
Suddenly, Dune stops running.
"OH!?" taunted Bizon, "ACCEPTING YOUR FATE!?"
"That would be the case..." the Demonologist remarked with a phlegmatic air about his way, "... if you weren't so fucking stupid."
Dune then snaps his fingers, activating the magic circle that Wadjet drew in his place while he was keeping Bizon busy. Bizon notices that there was a wooden staff planted next to him, but before he can pull it out, the ground beneath him begins to sink him as if he were walking on water.
He tried to escape, but he felt the ashen soil mired around his ankles compacting themselves into weighted anklets, causing him to sink faster due to the added mass to his body.
"[Brimstone Trap Magic: Graveyard Osiris]."
"[Density Binding Magic: Serqet Lead]."
The scorching quicksand pit of brimstone and ash proceeds to bury Bizon all the way down to his neck as his submerged body continues to be shackled in more and more pressurized earth clasped around him as weights, preventing him from making an escape.
Dune then clasps his hands together into a ball, now beckoning forth the surrounding mana to be integrated with both his own and Wadjet's into unleashing his ultimate attack.
"[Mana Zone]..." Dune declared.
"... [Disaster Set]!"
The ashen sand buried around Bizon's pitfall begins to close in around him, compacting the earth through heat and pressure, transforming the earth encasing the Inquisitor into a giant ball of diamond, with only his head sticking out of the glittering orb like an awkward mole on a person's face.
Dune then approaches Bizon's head, checks for its pulse.
"... He's still alive, thank fucking god, no jail time for me," Dune sighed out as he looked at Bizon's pupil-less eyes and agape mouth, "... although he might've fainted from overheating, I don't think we should linger."
"Those poor souls are still surrounded my madmen," Wadjet pointed out, "don't fall to them lest they fall afterwards."
With that said, the two run back towards the Border Customs Office where the others were at.
Clover/Diamond Kingdom Borderlands, Neutral Territory, Midnight
"Hey, Vanessa..." Finral groaned out.
"... How?" Vanessa remarked in disbelief at Finral hanging by an arrow pierced though his robe and staked into the giant sword's ornamental gaps, "... am I still drunk, or are you hanging up from there by yourself?"
Finral nervously chuckles before letting out a small whimper.
"A little help?" begged Finral, "I don't know where I am, the mana around here is even more unstable than back at the capital so I can't afford to use my magic unless I end up teleporting myself elsewhere, and I think this arrow is gonna give out soon!"
"Wait, what did you say about the capital!?" Vanessa asked.
"Oh, uhh..." Finral stammered, "... people going nuts and are killing each other as we speak and OMIGOD I THINK I HEAR THE ARROW SNAPPING!"
And on cue, the arrow pinning Finral snaps in two, causing him to fall like a rock from a dangerous height.
Quickly, Vanessa uses her [Thread Magic] to weave several strands together into a netting before stringing them up around the several giant swords all over the place, breaking Finral's fall just enough for him to bloody his nose, otherwise, he was able to walk just fine.
"... Argh... thanks," Finral groaned out as he rubbed his broken nose.
"Yeah..." groaned out Vanessa, still her headache being present, "... I think we need to run before other people show up and possibly kill us-OH CRAP, BEHIND YOU!"
"WAIT WAIT WAIT, I'M NOT HOSTILE!" a mousey female voice cried out behind Finral, the two screaming in terror upon colliding with each other, only to reveal a chestnut-haired girl underneath the bloodstained hood.
"... Wait, didn't I see you at the Decoration Ceremony?" Finral asked.
"Ex-Golden Dawn turned topographer, Corrin Index at your service," the girl greeted with a Magic Knight salute before correcting herself from her reflex, "... sorry, old habits die hard."
"What are you doing out here of all places?" asked Vanessa.
"Well, the Magic Knights commissioned the Geography Guild to update the map of the Diamond Kingdom going off of the rumors that the whole kingdom is a wasteland..." Corrin remarked as she looked out into the sword-mired horizon, "... then this shit happened, and now I'm the only one left alive." she stammered out before her whole body starts trembling in fear, "I left my prior station because I hate violence, so why am I still drenched in my own colleges' blood in a job like this!?"
"If it makes you feel any better..." Finral remarked sheepishly, "... we're just as in the dark as you are."
"Whatever the case, we shouldn't linger," Vanessa remarked, "from what he said, even the people at the capital have gone murder-crazy like Sol and Gordon."
"WHAT!?" Finral cried out, "THEM TOO!?"
"Whatever you do," Vanessa stated as she got back up, "don't, touch, the blades. Got it?"
The two nod as they follow the witch back to where the other Magic Knights were stationed/occupied at.
Unknown
"I am a great warrior, I can be strong as my brother."
"Father, why him over me!? What does he have that I don't!?"
"Are my skills as a warrior obsolete? All because all I can do is kill and maim while he heals and saves!?"
"You can't win a war just by saving people! Real wars are won through casualties!"
"Why!? Why did he win the war by himself without spilling a single drop blood with his own hands whereas I had to drown in it!?"
"I hate you, brother! I HATE YOU!"
"I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE PAINFULLY AS I'VE DONE TO MY ENEMIES! I PRAY THAT ALL THAT YOU HOLD DEAR TURNS TO DUST AT MY HANDS!"
"I WILL LOOK FORWARD TO THE DAY WHEN YOUR PEACE HAS BEEN ALL FOR NAUGHT-"
*WHACK*
*thump*
"... What the fuck are you looking at?" a familiar snarling voice growled out.
"No, it's just..." remarked Astaroth, "... you were a human, weren't you? Like me?"
"... Humanity, a race of hypocrites," Cain's voice boomed in the darkness, "... they deny being monsters when shed blood of anything with a pulse. They claim to be peaceful when they still bully their lessers. They have the gall to say that they can love when all they hold are contempt towards another. At least my [Hatred] is pure of lies. Hatred... is the sole truth that they deny."
"... You aren't wrong," Astaroth consented.
"And yet, why does it sound like you're doubting me?" asked Cain, "I see your past, a mongrel without magic in a world where magic is everything. You were just like me, born to be a great warrior, but was unjustly killed because of your place in the world. So why is it that your hatred... is so messy? So filthy... of hope!?"
"... Unlike you, I know what the world will look like in my vision," answered Astaroth, "a world without magic, so people like me, people without magic, can finally prosper. You on the other hand, simply clung onto your principles without adapting."
"I stuck by my values as a true warrior of arms," Cain retorted, "unlike those cowards who used the accursed esoteric arts of the mystics, magic, in a field of bloodshed. Am I supposed to accept that I was obsolete because I couldn't use magic!?"
"You could've set off on your own," Astaroth pointed out, "I mean, from the way I see it, you're more focused on pleasing your old man than being better as a 'warrior' that you claim to be."
"What do you know?" Cain rejected the Prince's argument, "don't talk like if you know anything about me! You don't have any blood ties to anyone!"
Astaroth smirks.
"I don't need something flimsy as blood ties to validate my own existence," the Demon Prince of War declared, "far as I know, I could've been born out of a rock before being dumped before the church doorstep. You held yourself back, Cain. That's why you lost. You're blind to yourself in favor of what others want."
"... So it's not hatred that you see of this world of lies," snarled Cain, "... it's hope."
"If I'm strong enough, then I can change how the world works," Astaroth grinned, "who knows, maybe it'll be better off under my thumb. Way better than being judged by how much mana you're born with."
The Demon of [Hatred]'s own being then begins to drown into the vantablack of Astaroth's consciousness.
"... I swear," Cain declared to the Prince as his presence begun to fade and meld into Astaroth's own, "... someday, you'll eat your own words, and I look forward to the day where you acknowledge that I'm right."
As soon as Cain disappears completely, Astaroth's eyes open back up under a moonlit sky obstructed with a cage-like debris.
"Welcome back, milord," Claudius greeted, "how was your nap?"
The Prince looked around the ruined island, only to find himself, Claudius, the mutilated corpses of the Dark Elves, and that one of his chests were bigger than the other.
"... What happened?" asked Astaroth, "and why is my left nipple bigger than the one on my right?"
"For now, put this on," the Fallen Angel stated as he handed him a rounded, bowl-like metal pauldron with three straps going around it, "... and well, your body while it was fighting Cain got mutilated beyond natural repair, so the Fallen Angels had to donate what's left of themselves to keep yourself whole. And yes, my left wing is now gone."
As Astaroth puts on his pauldron over his left chest, he then follows where Claudius was walking towards, leading them to Leviathan, whom it caged in by numerous swords that fell from the sky, the cuts around its blubber bleeding black.
"... Go ahead," the cetacean Demon grumbled out, "laugh."
Astaroth then grabs onto one of the swords that are glowing red, trying to uproot it from where it was planted into, but no avail.
"... Are you trying to save me?" Leviathan asked, "you, a Demon Prince, saving a worthless one like me?"
"You're not worthless," spoke the Prince as he continued to struggle moving the sword, "I can fly, but I can't swim. You can swim as you can fly. Everyone has a talent of their own that can be used to help others. I'm not like the others who lord their magic over others because he can. I am not abandoning you. I am going to make you see your own worth!"
"I was solely created to kill [Salamander]," the cetacean Demon pointed out, "my creator hates deviances in my functions. I cannot disobey her directives."
"Well, you can't exactly do your job if you're not in water, can you?" Astaroth retorted, "so shut up and let me help you! That's what you did to her when she came to Clover Island, didn't you!? I understood where she was coming from! So make this as my way of repaying you for your kindness!"
The whale Demon then thinks back on why it saved her, even though he'd gain nothing from doing so.
... I guess... I don't want to be envious of anyone anymore, thought Leviathan as he recalled the past decades spent with the nameless one, ... I swam endlessly in an asinine mission to kill a foe that I can never reach... but yet, even for this Prince, whose body is naught but an amalgam of other bodies... continues to fly even if those wings will never reach... is this what you were working towards, nameless one? To carve out the world to fit you rather then let yourself get carved out to fit into the world itself...
Leviathan then looks back down, now seeing that the Prince is ordering Lucifer to aid him in his help on getting the swords entraping it.
... I guess I am just as naive as the fool below me. Lady Lucifuge told us Fallout Four to never trust anyone, even each other, or her. ... I guess for now, I can trust him with what's left of me.
Leviathan's whole body then glows into a deep shade of dark-blue before transforming itself into a crucifix-like object that floats down towards Astaroth's hands.
"... Um, Claudius?" asked Astaroth, "the hell is this?"
"It's resembling a Stigmata, akin to the one I've planted inside your chest to wake you back up," Claudius answered before commenting at its oddity, "... never in my life I'd thought that see a Demon willingly sacrifice itself for this... what does it mean?"
Before anyone can even think further, a distorted arc warps the skies above before crashing onto the island in an explosion of glass and iron.
"WHAT THE!?" remarked Claudius as he'd looked out into the horizon, spotting the old whaler he'd seen on their way to Clover Island, "ISHMAEELLLL!"
He tried to fly towards the wingless Angel, only for him to crash back onto the ground due to him missing a wing, the aforementioned now being disintegrated as if it was paper being caught on fire.
Claudius tries to discern why his remaining wing was burning, and notices that every vegetation were browning quickly and the sands on the coastline slowly turning into semi-translucent glass.
"... So that mist around it... it's actually [Fire Magic], isn't it?" pointed out Claudius, "only Michael's flames are this hot enough to completely transcend color itself."
As the boat carrying the whaler lands ashore, Ishmael steps foot onto the sandy coast, and immediately starts turning the surrounding sand into glass with each step he takes towards the flightless Fallen Angel.
"Lucifer," Ishmael declared, "you will die here. [Fire Magic: Glass Flames]."
The air around them begins to distort before everything starts catching on invisible fire, seemingly looking like the whole island itself was disintegrate into flickers of dying embers.
As a countermeasure, Claudius coats his whole body in [Anti-Magic] as a protective layer against the mystical, unseen flames that were slowly charring the island into a giant lump of glass and coal.
Above, Astaroth was able to avoid being burnt, and normally, one would simply cut and run and leave the two to fight, but Astaroth, before and after Demonification, wasn't the kind of person who listens to logic at a critical juncture.
But still, even he knew that just charging in blindly would result in him nearly getting killed, again, and the last thing he needs is to be needing to search for another body to inhabit after just getting fixed.
"Think, Astaroth, think!" Astaroth spoke to himself as he looked at the blue Stigmata, "Leviathan gave himself up because he trusts me, so what am I supposed to do with this along with my swords? Am I supposed to stick this onto something? C'mon, work with me-"
In a spur of a moment when the Prince placed the Stigmata onto the flat of his Reprisal, a certain image of a new sword flashed by Astaroth's head. As the image begun to become more clear in his thoughts, he faintly felt Cain's residual powers in his own [Anti-Magic].
Now instead of simply canceling mana, he can now corrupt mana like Cain's own [Weapon Magic], but in a different principle.
"... Black... smith?" Astaroth spoke out in a strained tone as he'd tried to wrap his head around this new revelation, "... got nothing better to do, so might as well try something new! [Blacksmith]!"
Automatically, Ravager comes out of Astaroth's grimoire and merges with Reject welded with Leviathan's stigmata.
As an unholy blue-black light engulfs the skies above, the two flightless beings look up, one in complete elation...
"... I don't believe it..." gasped Lucifer in awe, "... did Tabbris plan for this?"
... and the other in complete horror.
"YOU IMBECILE!" Ishmael cried out, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?"
Floating before the Prince, a new sword, it's blade was a zweihander-like blade, the tip being a cross, the blade's parrying hooks being a straight-pointed blade that ran through the lower half of the blade, the whole blade resembling a 5-point double-cross, all held up by a cross-guard resembling an infinity symbol.
"... The [First Seal: Leviathan]?" stated the Prince as he'd grabbed onto its handle, its power now allowing Astaroth to see mana...
IWILLLEAVETHERESTTOYOU
... and his own [Anti-Mana], depicted as black particles that were emitted from himself, Claudius, and the [First Seal] itself.
"... Interesting," Astaroth grinned manically, now figuring out what to do with his upgraded [Anti-Magic] merging with Cain's methods, "now let's see what I can really do!"
Astaroth then points his new blade up into the air, scattering more [Anti-Mana] around the whole island. As the modified Demonic energy begun to spread its influence throughout the island below, the unseen flames then begin to peter out, no longer able to feed off of the surrounding magic.
"NO! DON'T DO THIS!" Ishmael cried out, "YOU'LL POISON THE ENTIRE WORLD WITH IT!"
"SCREW THIS WORLD AND ITS PEOPLE!" declared Astaroth as the density of [Anti-Mana] begun to increase, weakening Ishmael even further as his flames began dying out, as evidenced by their color of their wisps being exposed as red, "I'VE LIVED AS A NOBODY TO THESE BASTARDS WHO CAN'T SEE PAST MAGIC! IF MAGIC IS EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD, THEN I'LL DRAG IT KICKING AND SCREAMING INTO ITS RUIN! IT'S TIME FOR MY KIND, THE ONES WHO WERE ABANDONED BY SEPHIRA TO STOP HIDING! I AM ASTAROTH, AND I WILL BECOME THE NEXT DEMON KING WHO'LL LEAD THEM TO A FUTURE WHERE ONLY US MATTER!"
"YOU WILL DOOM US ALL!" Ishmael cried out as it had struggled in vain, trying to make its dying flames reach Astaroth, only for Claudius to hold the weakened Angel back.
"Then screw em."
Astaroth then dives down towards Ishmael, ramming the tip of his [First Seal]'s blade through the Angel's chest, and upon contact, all of the mana inside Ishmael's body was slowly being corrupted into [Anti-Mana], causing his entire existence to begin rotting into oblivion.
As soon as the blade was pulled out, Ishmael crumbles into dust.
"... Milord?" asked Claudius, whom he's eying a boat left behind by Ishmael, "shall we?"
Astaroth nods in agreement as the two then get onboard the dingy.
"... So," asked Astaroth as the two Fallen Angels stared at each other while sitting on the rowboat's seats, "which one of us is doing the pushing?"
"Another question," remarked Claudius, "... do you know how to turn the red blades off-"
The blades that were staked around once where Leviathan was beached at begins to lose their crimson glow, followed up by the other blades underwater slowly losing their scarlet luster.
"... I'll push."
As Claudius pushes the dingy into the sea, Astaroth takes the time to admire his new sword before putting it away, but as the sword was being returned into the grimoire's pages, a fast voice echoed in his head for a brief moment.
FINDTHESEVENSEALS
THETENBLADESARETHEKEY
THESEVENDEMONSARETHEBECKONED
"... Tch, that was fucking weird," grumbled Astaroth as Claudius rowed the boat back to mainland, the faint red lights gleaming ahead now slowly fading away in the distance.
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Holy fucking hell, this week was a bit of an ordeal.
Deleted two of my own long-runner fics just to clear up my mental space, and now my obligations have been lightened, and now, I can breath a little easier. No mess of ideas, no thinking four different plotlines at once, and especially, no rabid fanbases that'll verbally mutilate me in the comments (although for the fourth one, I was kinda asking for it, repeatedly).
Also, a few notes of references (might make this a new thing):
Based Astaroth's new patchwork body off of the Rebis vessel from Castlevania Season 4, with the Rebis itself being "great work" in greek, where it symbolizes a perfect human created through alchemy, bearing equal traits of a man and a woman (not a hermaphrodite; that is considered below a true Rebis).
[First Seal: Leviathan]'s general shape itself is based off the occult/alchemical symbol of sulfur, the Leviathan's Cross.
That out of the way, what do you guys think of this Saga?
Please leave a comment or a review, fo I'd like to know what my audience are thinking!